


What Stays

by Amelia_Clark



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Demon Dean Winchester, I'm Sorry, M/M, Pegging, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds Dean before Sam does. As soon as he finds out Dean is still alive—that Metatron's taunt was just that--he leaves Heaven, climbs in his gold Continental and drives, aimless at first. The he starts working connections Sam doesn't have, a psychic nun in Nashville, a dryad in Yellowstone. He doesn't tell Sam what he's doing, and he convinces himself he doesn't know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Stays

**Author's Note:**

> **#4: Angel/Demon AU**
> 
> Guys, I made myself sad again. Glad I've got kitten-cuddling on the docket for today.

_All stories are true, and so is this one:_

Castiel finds Dean before Sam does. As soon as he finds out Dean is still alive—that Metatron's taunt was just that--he leaves Heaven, climbs in his gold Continental and drives, aimless at first. Then he starts working connections Sam doesn't have, a psychic nun in Nashville, a dryad in Yellowstone. He doesn't tell Sam what he's doing, and he convinces himself he doesn't know why.

He finds Dean in Vegas, which in retrospect is the first place he should've looked. The hotel Dean's chosen isn't the flashiest, but the lobby still makes Castiel dizzy, neon and plush and a constant cacophony of slots; he intimidates a room number out of the desk clerk and breaks in to find Dean on all fours, getting vigorously fucked by a blonde with a strap-on.

She looks up in alarm when he enters, but Dean growls "Don't you dare stop," and though her rhythm falters, she grips Dean's hips tighter and starts slamming into him again. But Dean holds Castiel's gaze, lets his eyes flicker to black, the smirk on his lips falling open to a moan. "Harder," he pants, "that's what I'm paying you for." The blonde redoubles her efforts, reaches around to stroke Dean's cock, and he comes shouting, never looking away from Castiel, who's frozen in the doorway, stricken.

The woman pulls out, sits back on her heels. Dean glances over his shoulder. "You can leave the harness in the bathroom. Cash is on the dresser. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she murmurs in a gentle Scandinavian cadence, tugging up her black bustier, and shrugs at Castiel before heading to the bathroom.

Dean rolls over onto his back, arms behind his head on a nest of pillows. Castiel can't help but look down at his cock, still half-hard against his leg, come smeared over the head; Dean follows his eyes and chuckles. "Go on, get an eyeful," he says. 

"I'm not—Dean. Cover yourself," Castiel stammers, because Dean’s nakedness is derailing his ability to think.

"No," says Dean, and stretches like a cat. He's smooth skin, barely contained power, and Castiel shuts his eyes like a human facing down an angel. Dean laughs again.

The woman emerges dressed from the bathroom, tight gold dress and knee-high boots, counts her fee and nods to Dean. She has to step around Castiel to leave, and pauses for a moment to look at him; she's as tall as he is, with arresting blue eyes so pale they're almost colorless. "I'm sorry," she whispers, too low for Dean to hear, and then she's gone.

"S'pose you've come to save me, huh?" asks Dean. "Don't bother, I'm doing awesome."

"You're not. Dean, you're a demon. I have to save you or kill you."

"Right. You're gonna kill me. After you gave up a whole angel army for me, that's really fucking likely. And how are you gonna save me, you think? Blood and Latin? You'll have to touch me first. Go ahead. Put those angel hands all over me, Cas." He arches his back, runs slow hands over his chest.

Castiel can't speak, and he wishes Sam was with him. Sam would be scandalized, but he could be strong, decisive. Not like him, mesmerized by Dean's body, his whole being a taut thread of want.

Standing up, Dean stalks over to him, crowds him against the door; and though Castiel's still clothed from his trench coat to his shoes, he feels far more naked than Dean.

And like he's read Castiel's mind, Dean says, "You're not going to tell Sam where I am."

"Yes I am," says Castiel, feeling childish but defiant.

"No, you're not," says Dean, and reaches out to run his thumb down Cas's throat, resting on his collarbone just beneath his shirt. "You know why not? Because if you don't, we can keep meeting like this. Nice and private, Cas." He leans forward to purr into Castiel's ear. "I've got no inhibitions anymore. I'll do things to you you can't even imagine."

And Castiel breaks. He'll hate himself later. Right now he's shoving Dean across the room and back onto the bed, ripping his trench coat off, pulling his shirt over his head. Dean pulls his head down and kisses him, bites his lip till Castiel whimpers in pain.

"That's it, angel," says Dean, "come on, baby," and he presses up into him, already hard against his thigh. Castiel groans, licks at his ear, his neck. Dean's skin tastes of salt and embers.

"What do you want, Cas?" Dean asks, hands at his belt. "You wanna fuck me, want me to fuck you? I'd love to suck your cock. But you gotta say it out loud. None of this longing gaze shit." He shoves Castiel's pants down to his knees, runs a teasing knuckle up his erection. 

"I want," says Castiel, and he pulls away to get his shoes off, throw the rest of his clothes to the floor, "Dean, I want you so much."

"Yeah, I can see that," says Dean, glancing at Cas's cock, thick and stiff between his legs. "You're gonna have to be more specific."

Castiel leans over to kiss him, and somehow it focuses him this time. "I want to be inside you," he says. "I want to watch you. I want you over me, Dean."

"Cowgirl," says Dean, "classic." He guides Castiel onto his back, slicks lube over his cock; his touch is unexpectedly gentle. But then Dean straddles him, reaches back to rub the tip of Castiel's cock over his still-loose hole, and sinks down to the hilt in one swift move.

"Fuck," says Castiel.

"Yep," says Dean, and stretches back, spine a perfect arch, to grab Castiel's legs behind him. He starts to move, thighs and abdomen flexing, and deadbeat God help him, Castiel's going to remember this sight for the rest of his short life: Dean's body all lean lines, his cock proud and quivering, Castiel's own cock disappearing into him over and over.

"Dean," he says, "please kiss me, please," and Dean falls over him, smashes their mouths together. Castiel can't tell anymore whether this is rough or romantic, whether Dean's using him or expressing something he couldn't before. He tries to tell himself it doesn't matter—Dean's mouth, his rolling hips make that easy.

Dean comes again, hot over Castiel's stomach, and bends to whisper in his ear, "I loved you, you know."

"I know," says Cas, seizing his hips and thrusting. "I still do, you know."

"You poor dumb bastard," says Dean, and that's when Castiel comes, looking into Dean's black cold eyes.

Dean pulls off immediately, bites at Castiel's shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. "That was fun, angel. Now get out."

And Castiel does, pulls on his pants, buttons his shirt, Dean watching him with half-closed eyes all the while. "How will I," Castiel licks his lips, self-loathing crashing over him like a wave, "how will we do this again?"

Dean laughs. "I'll call. I mean, I really will. Wanted this for years, I'm gonna take it while I can."

"Yes," says Cas. "Yes, we will."


End file.
